Troy I
]] Troy I (Troy Arias Reyes; born 735 PC) was the King of Agartha. He was ruling ever since the kingdom's creation. Like his citizens, Troy worn a mask, along with the hazard suits worn by Agarthian authorities. He died in an assassination attempt, he was killed in his sleep from poison, Adagnitio was assumed to be behind the assassination attempt for the Adagnitian Revolution. Appearance Troy was always seen in a standard Agarthian Hazmat Suit, often smoking a cigar. And just like Chase Smith , they share a mutual mystery to their identity and true face, as only Chase and Troy only know what their real faces and identity are. Origins Troy had lived in Bronyland since a young age and was content despite living in poverty. Unlike Chase Smith, Troy saw nothing wrong with Bronyland's harsh laws. However, he disagreed with how the government enforced said laws, and grew unhappy with the government's decision making. Soon, the country's population began to grow unhappy as well, and Troy decided that things were not going to improve. Not having any relatives, possessions or money to his name, Troy walked out into the desert and began a life as a wandering vagrant. As a mercenary After years of wandering, Troy eventually encountered the WCR, then only a city-state. He met with Chase Smith, and discovered that the city state was undergoing a conflict with Bronyland. The WCR was revolting against Bronyland and needed people to fight against them in the war. Troy eagerly joined, and fought alongside Chase. Both of them having previous grievances against Bronyland, the got along and became close allies quickly. Rise to Power Troy continued to assist Chase in the expansion of his city-state, especially helping out with keeping the citizens happy. Assassination and Return *Blink*. *blink*, *blink*. My eyes blink behind my mask as I lapse into consciousness. Where am I? A warning flashes on my mask's virtual display. My life support system's fluid levels are almost depleted. My body is sore, and I feel as if I could fall asleep at any moment. I attempt to move my limbs. No pain, but they won't budge. I glance at myself. My suit's condition has degraded somewhat, but I see no restraints. I try to lean my head a little, but again, a wall blocks my movement. I must be in some sort of container, but why? My Kingdom's scientists haven't perfected cryogenic storage last time I checked. But it's not cold. Nor does it contain oxygen, according to my mask. It's as if I'm in a box or a weapons cache or a coffin. Wait. A coffin? As soon as I say that word to myself, it triggers a rush of memories, and everything becomes clear as crystal. My name is Troy. I am the king of Agartha. Centuries ago I helped a revolution and started a tribe of survivalists. During an incident, we were forced underground where we made our paradise hundreds of feet below the planet's surface. The fertile valley where we attempted to settle had become a corrosive wasteland, and it was our duty to watch over it and protect those who would pass through it. I try to focus and think further back to the last time I was awake. I had just returned from a rendezvous with a man. A president, of the Winn Connected Republic. After our meeting, I fell asleep feeling much more tired than I should have, and now I’m here. How long ago was that? I check my virtual display's internal calendar. "1000 PC". Uh oh. With that information, I can't spend another minute in this coffin. I probably can't with my failing system anyhow. I try moving my whole self at once order to test my orientation, and I feel a sharp lean for a few seconds. Perfect, I told them to bury me upright if something were to happen to me. If my other prediction is correct, then the coffin itself shouldn't be too durable, since they would focus more on the aesthetic designs on it rather than it preserving capabilities, my body wouldn't rot thanks to the sterile mausoleum I'm probably stored in, so one good push, one solid hit to the hard floor, might be enough to break the casket lock on this thing. Here goes nothing. I thrust myself forward until I feel the lean, and then do it once more with all my might! *CRASH* A cloud of dust and a loud noise later I sorely pick myself up off the floor to find that the coffin has shattered into pieces. Unexpected, but whatever. I step outside the mausoleum to find myself in the Grand District's Royal Garden. It looks ridiculously unkempt and neglected, as if whoever was in charge during my absence had no respect for my property or legacy... My son? Nevertheless, I have no time to waste so I begin shambling into the city, in the direction of where I think the hospital was. As I walk, I look up at the night sky. Still full of crystals gleaming from the city's light. Heh, at least one thing's still the same. The Final Years After reflecting upon his questionable choices during the The Final Trial, Troy's medical advisers came to the conclusion that his mental state was beginning to deteriorate. Parts of Troy's mind were starting to fail and would continue to do so until he either achieved another comatose state or found some miraculous way to reverse it. Fearing the loss of his pleasures and feelings, Troy began a fanatical search through both medical archives and surviving magical texts in order to develop a way to stop the loss of his sanity. After many days of fruitless experimentation and nights spent awake at the drawing board, the withered king finally developed a script for a ritual. A ritual that could use fire combined with shining gemstones to baptize the soul with everlasting life while destroying the body chaining him to this world... Category:Rulers